In times past, the sea was both the beginning and the end for the folk of the village of Zennor. It gave them fish for food and fish for sale, and made a wavy road to row from town to town. Hours were reckoned not by clocks but by the motions of the tide, and months and years ticked off by the herring runs. The sea also took from them, and often wild, sudden storms would arise taking fish and fisherman alike.

Now, in the church’s choir that sang at Evensong there was a most handsome lad named Matthew Trewella. Not only was Matthew handsome, but his singing was sweet as well. His voice pealed out louder than the church bells, and each note rang clear and true. It was always Matthew who sang the closing hymn in church. Early one evening, when all the fishing boats bobbed at anchor, and all the fisher families were in church, and even the waves rested themselves and came quietly to shore, something moved softly in the twilight. The waves parted without a sound, and, from deep beneath them, some creature rose and climbed out onto a rock. It was both a sea creature and a she-creature; for, though it seemed to be a girl, where the girl's legs should have been was the long and silver-shiny tail of a fish. It was a mermaid, one of the daughters of Llyr, king of the ocean, and her name was Morveren.

Morveren sat upon the rock, looked at herself in the quiet water, and then combed all the little crabs and seashells from her long hair. As she combed, she listened to the murmur of the waves and wind, and borne on the wind was Matthew's song.

"What breeze is there that blows such a song?" wondered Morveren. Then the wind died, and Matthew's song with it. The sun disappeared, and Morveren slipped back beneath the water to her home.

The next evening she came again. This time she swam closer to shore, to hear Matthew’s song better. Once more Matthew's voice carried out to sea, and Morveren listened. "What bird sings so sweet?" she asked, and she looked all about. However, darkness had come, and her eyes saw only shadows.

The next day Morveren came even earlier. She floated right up by the fishermen's boats. When she heard Matthew's voice this time, she called, "What reed is there that pipes such music?" There was no answer save the swishing of the water round the skiffs.

Morveren would and must know more about the singing. So she pulled herself up on the shore itself, from there she could see the church and hear the music pouring from its open doors. Nothing would do then but she must peek in and learn for herself who sang so sweetly.

But she did not go the first time. When she, looked behind her, she saw that the tide had begun to recede and the water pull back from the shore, and she knew that she must go back, or be left stranded on the sand. Therefore, she dove down beneath the waves, down to the dark sea cave where she lived with her father the king. There, she told Llyr what she had heard.

Her father Llyr was so old that he appeared to be carved of driftwood and his hair floated out tangled and green, like seaweed. At Morveren's words, he shook that massive head from side to side.

"To hear is enough, my child. To see is too much."

"I must go, Father," she pleaded, "for the music is magic."

"Nay," he answered. "The music is man-made, and it comes from a man's mouth. We people of the sea do not walk on the land of men."

A tear, larger than an ocean pearl, fell from Morveren's eye. "Then surely I may die from the wanting down here."

His daughter’s crying troubled Llyr for a mermaid to cry was a thing unheard of and it troubled the old sea king greatly.

"Go, then," he said at last, "but go with care. Cover your tail with a dress, such as their women wear. Go quietly, and make sure that none shall see you. And return by high tide, or you may not return at all."

"I shall take care, Father!" cried Morveren, excited. "No one shall snare me like a herring!" Llyr gave her a beautiful dress crusted with pearls and sea jade, coral, and other ocean jewels. It covered her tail, and she covered her shining hair with a net, and so disguised she set out for the church and the land of men.

Slippery scales and fish's tail are not made for walking, and it was difficult for Morveren to get up the path to the church. Nor was she used to the dress of an earth woman dragging behind. She finally got there by pulling herself forward by grasping on the trees, until she was at the church door. Some people were looking down at their hymnbooks and some up at the choir, so, since none had eyes in the backs of their heads, they did not see Morveren. But she saw all of them including Matthew. He was as handsome as an angel was, and when he sang it was like a harp from heaven—although Morveren knew nothing of these.

Each night thereafter, Morveren would dress and come up to the church, to look and to listen, staying but a few minutes and always left before the last note faded so she could catch the high tide. Night by night, month by month, Matthew grew taller and his voice grew deeper and stronger (though Morveren neither grew nor changed, for that is the way of mermaids). It went like this for almost a year, until the evening when Morveren lingered longer than usual. She had heard Matthew sing one verse, and then another, and begin a third. Each refrain was lovelier than the one before, and Morveren caught her breath in a sigh.

It was just a little sigh, softer than the whisper of a wave, but it was enough for Matthew to hear, and he looked to the back of the church and saw the mermaid. Morveren's eyes were shining, and the net had slipped from her head showing her wet, gleaming hair. Matthew stopped his singing; he was struck silent by the look of her—and by his love for her.

Morveren became frightened when Matthew saw her. Her father had warned that none must see her. Besides, the church was warm and dry, and merpeople must be cool and wet. Morveren felt herself shriveling, and turned in haste from the door.

"Stop!" cried Matthew boldly. "Wait!" and he ran down the aisle of the church and out the door after her. Then all the people turned startled, and their hymnbooks fell from their laps.

Morveren tripped over her dress and would have fallen if Matthew had not reached her side and caught her.

"Stay!" he begged. "Whoever ye be, do not leave!"

Tears, real tears, as salty as the sea itself, rolled down Morveren's cheeks. "I cannot stay. I am a sea creature, and must go back where I belong."

Matthew stared at her and saw the tip of her fish tail poking out from beneath the dress. But that mattered not at all to him. "Then I will go with ye. For with ye is where I belong." He picked Morveren up, and she threw her arms about his neck. He hurried down the path with her, toward the edge of the water.

The people from the church saw him do this. "Matthew, stop!" they shouted. "Hold back!"

However, Matthew was stricken with love for the mermaid, and ran faster with her toward the sea. The fishermen of Zennor began to chase him, but Matthew was quick and strong and outdistanced them. Morveren was quick and clever and tore the pearls and coral from her dress, flinging them on the path. The fishermen were greedy as men are now, and stopped in their chase to pick up the gems, only Matthew's mother still ran after them.

The tide was going out, great rocks thrust up from the dark water. Already it was too shallow for Morveren to swim. But Matthew plunged ahead into the water, stumbling in to his knees. Quickly, his mother caught hold of his fisherman's jersey still Matthew pushed on until the sea rose to his waist and then his shoulders. Then the waters closed over Morveren and Matthew, and his mother was left with only a bit of yarn in her hand, like a fishing line with nothing on it.

Never again did the people of Zennor see Matthew and Morveren. They had gone to live in the land of Llyr, in golden sandcastles built far below the waters in a blue-green world.

But the people of Zennor heard Matthew. For he sang love songs and lullabies to Morveren, both day and night. Matthew learned songs that told of the sea as well. His voice arose soft and high if the day was to be fair, deep and low if Llyr was going to make the waters boil. From his songs, the fishermen of Zennor knew when it was safe to put to sea, and when it was wise to anchor snug at home.

There are some still who find meanings in the voices of the waves and understand the whispers of the winds. These are the ones who say Matthew sings to them that will listen.